The Wedding Night
by My Little Darkling
Summary: Ginny and Neville have finally tied the knot, and return to Neville's house as Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom. They give themselves to pleasure for the first time as husband and wife, and things seem to be perfect...until they head upstairs, that is.


**The Wedding Night**

Voices sounded from the front walk at the Longbottom residence and all the portraits froze in their frames. "It's them!" shouted the painting of a bespectacled witch with cascading gray curls. "Everyone be quiet!"

"Why do we have to be quiet?" called out the depiction of a teenage Alice Longbottom. "I happen to be in the middle of a highly important conversation with Ruzinelle."

"They're newly-weds," replied the gray-haired witch exasperatedly. "They won't want any distractions or interruptions."

"Besides," the picture of a young man clad in lime green robes contributed. "If we're really quiet, we'll be able to hear."

"Hear what?" Alice demanded irritably.

"Them shagging," the man answered in a tone of nonchalance.

Alice made a revolted face and clasped her hands to her mouth. "Eww! You're a pervert, Gorpin! Why ever would you want to listen to something like that?"

Gorpin grinned devilishly. "Because nobody was kind enough to paint a supply of pornographic magazines in to my portrait. All they gave me was a pile of plays by some Muggle twit called Shakespeare or some stupid name like that."

"Shakespeare was not an idiot!" yelled Ruzinelle, a tall angular girl dressed in Muggle attire standing next to Alice in her frame. "He was a brilliant man!"

Gorpin yawned and leaned back on the dark red sofa he was occupying. "He was a witless git," he muttered, closing his eyes and folding his arms behind his head. "For one thing, I think he made up all that Olde English bullshit. I mean, who the fuck talks like that?"

"Poets," the girl retorted. "You know, men who actually have an idea of what romance is really about."

"Romance!" Gorpin laughed. "Shakespeare hadn't a clue what romance was! Take Romeo and Juliet for example. Romeo starts off at the beginning of the play being all love-struck and heart-sick over Rosaline because the wench doesn't return his affections, but by that night he's all set to run straight to the alter with another girl. The whole damn story takes place over the span of about three or four days during which time the fools get married, spend a night together and kill themselves out of grief over each other's deaths. What I want to know is how the hell you can feel agony like that over somebody you haven't even known for a week. Sure, they were husband and wife, but still. I'm willing to bet it was really only a physical attraction anyway. You can't fall in love that fast. I wouldn't even shag with anyone unless I'd gotten to know them for at least a month."

Alice and her friend exchanged hopeless glances and sighed. "You're such a prick," the former told Gorpin. "You haven't got a poetic bone in your body."

"Of course I don't," the older male agreed. "I'm two dimensional, Allie. I haven't got bones."

Just then, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock on the front door.

"Everybody, shut up!" cried the witch with the curls. "They're coming in!"

"Ooh, almost time for the show!" cheered Gorpin excitedly.

"Shut up, pervert!" ordered Alice.

Silence fell over the living room and all eyes focused on the door. After a moment, the knob turned and the door swung open. The portraits prepared to shout rounds of congratulatory phrases to the newly-weds, but they were extremely caught off guard by the single thin vertically challenged figure that entered the house.

"Harry Potter?" Ruzinelle squeaked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The young wizard turned morose green eyes upon her and said in a low tired-sounding tone, "Hello, Ruze. I just came round to drop off a note for Neville and Ginny. I wasn't able to catch them at the reception and I have an emergency key so I thought I'd just let myself in. They'll find it when they come home later I expect."

Harry walked across the living room and opened the door that revealed a steep wooden stairway. He climbed the stairs very slowly, only acknowledging the occupants of the framed photographs he passed with slight nods of his head when they greeted him. None of them said anything, but they all were disturbed by the appearance of this old-time friend of their master. His once short hair now hung in a shaggy ebony mess about his shoulders and he looked skeletally thin. His skin was pale and his face held a look of sorrowful blandness. His eyes were empty and his mouth just lay in a sagging line between his hollow cheeks. He didn't seem well at all.

At the top of the stairs, Harry turned left and stepped in to a spacious bedroom. Producing his wand from the pocket of his robes, he conjured some candles to light the darkness and made his way over to the bed. He seated himself on the edge of it and reached over to the side table to fumble with the dial on the radio. After a few minutes of static, crystal clear music gushed forth from the speakers, filling the air with the carefully-orchestrated melody of tragedy.

Recognizing the song, Harry whispered along with the words of the female vocalist, "Can you stop, please? Can you stop the fire? You can't stop the fire, you won't say the words. Please, Please."

As the woman began to sing, he took a piece of parchment, ink bottle and quill pen from his pocket. He uncapped the ink, spread the parchment out on the bedspread and dipped the pen. Slowly, he started to write the lyrics he was hearing as they spilled forth from the speakers.

Laughing and smiling like a pair of giddy teenagers, Neville Longbottom and his new bride Ginny exited the beautiful white carriage that had brought them home after the lengthy wedding reception. They waved to the driver and hurried up the walk holding hands. Neville unlocked the door, then lifted his wife off her feet and carried her across the threshold.

"Oh, don't drop me, Nev," Ginny giggled.

"Never fear, my dear," Neville said in a heroic tone. "I shall not drop thee. Thou art safe in mine arms."

Gorpin made a tiny groan as he sprawled on the sofa in his frame. "Who the fuck talks like that?" he muttered to himself.

Neville kicked the door shut with his foot and carried Ginny over to the couch where he gently laid her out like a porcelain doll on display. He knelt at her side and touched his lips to hers. Her mouth was warm and soft but firm at the same time. He broke the kiss after a moment, but she pulled him back. "I've saved myself for twenty years," she whispered. "Now that we're married, I wanna go absolutely crazy on you."

The redhead pressed her delicious lips against those of her husband again and this time, snaked her tongue in to his mouth. She stroked his tongue with her own and sucked eagerly at it until it fell numb. Neville began plucking at the laces at the front of the white silk corset bodice of Ginny's dress, watching as more and more of her upper body was exposed while he worked. When he finished with this, he tugged the dress away from her legs and tossed it to the side.

The next task was to do away with the shoes. They were spiky white heels with intricate beadwork and tiny complicated buckles. Neville purposefully took a long time undoing them even though the desire building up inside him was nearly unbearable. He could tell Ginny was impatient, but he wanted to toy with her just a little bit. Good things come to those who wait and if she had waited twenty years, a few more minutes wouldn't hurt her.

Finishing with the shoes, he removed her stockings and ran a hand lightly up the inside of her thigh, making her shiver. He peeled back the top of her lacy snow white panties and slid his fingers inside the garment. He put his index finger to her entrance and rubbed it in slow circles, causing Ginny to moan quietly. "Take them off," she instructed, sounding half intoxicated.

Her love complied, tossing the panties in to a corner, then returned to fingering her. He applied more pressure this time which increased the volume of her moans. "Oh, Neville," she said breathily. "Baby, you're teasing me. Give it to me."

Neville grinned devilishly at her and rubbed a bit harder. He let her get used to that for a few minutes before abruptly penetrating her entrance with one finger. She cried out in surprised pleasure. Taking this as encouragement to continue, he drew the finger back and plunged it in a second time. A few thrusts later, he added a second finger, then a third.

When the thrusts became so fast and so deep that she could not stand it any longer, Ginny screamed out, "Oh, fuck!" and climaxed.

Neville smiled, clearly pleased with himself and climbed on top of his wife. Their mouths collided and their tongues danced. Ginny unzipped Neville's black trousers, unbuttoned his starched white dress shirt and pushed down his boxers. He kicked off his boots and socks and Ginny's hand went straight to his penis as though there was a magnet embedded in her palm. She curled her fingers around his length and massaged it. He groaned contentedly and kissed her neck, sucking at the smooth warm skin there. Gradually, he started moving lower, leaving a line of small pink marks wending its way from her throat to her navel.

Suddenly, Ginny made a triumphant sound and Neville collapsed on top of her, panting. He could feel himself spilling like a garden hose under the overpowering influence of her velveteen fingers. "Oh, Ginny!" he gasped, nibbling her ear lobe. "Ginny, that feels so good! Please! Please don't stop!"

Ginny said nothing, but her indigo eyes were glittering with wicked delight. A tight smirk of self satisfaction tugged at the corners of her mouth and knowing the sinful magic of her touch, went on stimulating her husband's penis. This prompted him to grab her around the waist, lift her hips off the couch cushion to grind against his and insert his viper in to the snug embrace of her vagina.

Ginny's scream of tormented ecstasy split the air and resounded off the walls like the chiming of a masochistic bell. Her nails dug in to Neville's back and she squeezed her eyelids closed. Her breath came in short rapid bursts as he moved inside her and she experimented with different rotations of her hips, trying to intensify the painful pleasure thrilling through her body. Although it hurt, it also felt indescribably right.

She'd snogged a fair number of boys in her lifetime, had even fooled around with some of them, but it had only felt perfect and natural with two of them. One of them just happened to be caressing her breasts at that moment and the other was—No. She didn't want to think about Harry. Fortunately, Neville ejaculated at that precise moment and provided her with a splendid distraction from her thoughts.

Ten minutes later, the couple disentangled themselves from one another and sat panting side by side on the couch. Ginny brushed several strands of flame-colored hair out of her face and swallowed hard, attempting to call forth some moisture to her dry throat. Next to her, Neville was looking quite pleased and very tired at the same time. "Worth waiting twenty years for?" he inquired mischievously.

"Definitely," Ginny grinned. "But now I'm ready for a nice cold shower and a good night's sleep. We've got to get up at five-thirty in order to meet Mad-Eye in London at seven to get the Portkey from him. Oh, Nev, I'm so excited to be going to Italy! I've always wanted to see Rome and it'll be even better now that I get to see it with you!" She leaned over and hugged him, placing a light kiss on his cheek. "I love you, Neville."

He stroked her hair fondly and said, "I love you too, Gin."

They bent forward at the same second for one more kiss, but were halted by the resonating boom of the grandfather clock chiming the top of the hour. "Eleven P.M.!" Ginny cried. "We'd better get to bed! Morning's going to come terribly soon."

"I thought you wanted to take a shower," Neville said.

"I'll do it in the morning," the redhead told him. "I'm rather tired really. It was a long day."

Neville nodded and they both rose to their feet. Intertwining their fingers and pressing their palms together, they walked across the room to the door that opened to the staircase which they realized only now stood partially ajar. "That's odd," Neville commented as they mounted the steps. "I don't remember leaving that open."

"Your mind was probably trying to be a million different places at once and you left it like that by mistake," Ginny assured him as they reached their bedroom.

"Proba—" Neville began, then stopped dead in his tracks just inside the room.

Ginny came in behind him and froze too when she beheld the sight of the lit candles floating in midair. "What the hell?" she muttered in disbelief. "Where did these come from? Nev, did you do this?"

"…No."

"Then … who did?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Do you think somebody broke in?"

"No. The place isn't ransacked and it doesn't look like anything's been moved in the slightest. Although … the radio was definitely not on when I left this morning."

Just then, there came a dull thudding noise from the direction of the closet. Both Ginny and Neville's eyes locked on its door and the hair on the backs of their necks rose. It was only then that they realized they were completely naked and without wands. Not a favorable state to be in if there was an intruder in the house.

"I-It sounds like a boggart," Ginny whispered hopefully.

"It probably is," Neville murmured in response. "This house does have a tendency to attract them like flies to honey."

"I'll go back downstairs and fetch our wands so we can be rid of it before we go to bed," Ginny volunteered and retraced their steps back to the living room. When she returned, she handed Neville his wand before striding confidently over to the closet and placing her left hand on the knob. Bracing herself for the sight of her worst fear, she raised her magical implement in her right hand and jerked the door wide.

Never in her life had Ginerva Elaine Weasley-Longbottom screamed the way she did when she saw what was in that closet and probably never would again. It was not a boggart at all. It was the solid reality of a tragedy she hadn't even seen in her most frightening nightmares. It was a horror of catastrophic proportions.

Hearing his wife's shriek, Neville flew to her side in an instant. As she collapsed backwards in to his arms, he saw the body of a man suspended from a rope that encircled his throat swaying slightly from side to side. The man's lips were parted and a trickle of crimson blood was splashing down his chin. He was clearly deceased.

The suicide note was found at six-thirty the following morning by Ginny as she sat on the bed beside Harry's corpse. Neville was waiting downstairs at the front door for Shawn Marps, the mortician of the wizarding community so there was no one about to see her clinging to her dead ex-boyfriend and sobbing in to his shoulder. It was while she was doing this that the corner of the folded sheet of parchment poked her in the eye as it protruded from the collar of his robes and she withdrew it. With trembling fingers, she smoothed it out across her knees and read:

_My dearest Ginny,_

_Tonight I admit what I have known all along. I cannot go on living on this Earth without you, the love of my life, so I shall simply cease to do so. There is no love in death. There is no pain in the grave. There is only the promise of an eternal coma, silent and numb._

_Please know that this is not your fault. It was my fault for breaking up with you all those years ago, but I did it for your own protection so I don't regret doing it. If something had happened to you because of me, I'd be killing myself out of guilt rather than self pity._

_I admit that I wish we could have revived our relationship, but I hold no hard feelings towards you or your new husband. I love you with every fiber of my being, Ginny, and I wish you the best of luck in the coming future. My spirit will always be with you. Goodbye._

_-Harry James Potter_

_P.S. Ginny…_

_Please, please forgive me,_

_But I won't be home again._

_Maybe someday you'll look up,_

_And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one:_

_"Isn't something missing?"_

_You won't cry for my absence, I know -_

_You forgot me long ago._

_Am I that unimportant...?_

_Am I so insignificant...?_

_Isn't someone missing me?_

_Even though I'm the sacrifice,_

_You won't try for me, not now._

_Though I'd die to know you love me,_

_I'm all alone._

_Isn't someone missing me?_

_Please, please forgive me,_

_But I won't be home again._

_I know what you do to yourself,_

_I breathe deep and cry out,_

_"Isn't someone missing me?"_

_Even though I'm the sacrifice,_

_You won't try for me, not now._

_Though I'd die to know you love me,_

_I'm all alone._

_Isn't someone missing me?_

_And if I bleed, I'll bleed,_

_Knowing you don't care._

_And if I sleep just to dream of you_

_I'll wake without you there,_

_Isn't something missing?_

_Isn't something..._

_Even though I'm the sacrifice,_

_You won't try for me, not now._

_Though I'd die to know you love me,_

_I'm all alone._

_Isn't someone missing me? _

**-END-**


End file.
